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MUSHROOMS 

t 

A BOOK 
OF FREE FORMS 



ALFRED KREYMBORG 



/ «. ALFRED A. KNOPF PUBLISHER 
/rrrft 220 West Forty-second Street, New York 



7*' \A 



tt** 



V 



\* 



Copyright, 1916, by 
JOHN MARSHALL 






TO 

ALANSON HARTPENCE 



J V-J / 



/ 



For their kind permission to reprint poems included 
in this book the author wishes to express his thanks to 
the editors of The New Republic, The Poetry Journal, 
Poetry: A Magazine of Verse; Others: A Magazine 
of the New Verse; The Egoist, Catholic Anthology, 
Bruno Chap Books, Greenwich Village and Rogue. 



The cover design is by William Zorach. 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Mushrooms 1 

Fugue 2 

Songs 3 

Vigil 4 

Vista 5 

Duel . 6 

Serenade 7 

Credo 8 

scherzetto 9 

Man Tells 10 

Woman Tells 11 

The Whip of the Unborn 12 

Prestissimo 13 

To A. H m . . . . . . . .15 

To M. L * 16 

To H. T 17 

Chicot 18 

On and In 19 

Parasite 20 

Service 21 

Scarecrow 22 

Toward Love 23 

A Sword 24 

They 25 



PAGE 

Chains 26 

Romance 27 

Convention . . 28 

Leopards 29 

The Tree 30 

Under Glass 31 

Yearning 32 

To a Maltese 33 

Life 34 

To a Canary 35 

Ants 36 

Theology -37 

Progress 38 

In a Dream 39 

What Can You Do? 41 

Pennies 42 

Today 43 

Every Morning 44 

Nocturne 45 

Mood 46 

Prisoners 47 

Grotesque 48 

To Circe 49 

Cortege 50 

Bach 51 

Schubert 52 

Cezanne • • 53 

Mistress Art 54 

Culture 56 

Children 57 

Prodigy 58 

Broom 59 



PAGE 

Kids 60 

Prejudice .61 

Nephews and Nieces 

Charles 65 

Evelyn 66 

Clara 67 

The Twins 68 

Baby Howard 69 

Raymond (a few days old) . . . . . .70 

Little Folk 71 

Bally-boo 72 

Lament 73 

Old Manuscript 74 

Earth Wisdom 75 

What December Told January 76 

Springtime 77 

Dogwood 78 

Idealists 79 

Daisies 80 

Clouds 81 

Rain 82 

A Clear Day 83 

Pong 84 

Sunday * 85 

Give to Me 86 

Improvisation 87 

Cheese 88 

Mother to Mother 89 

Overheard in an Asylum 90 

The Lapidary 91 

America 92 

Thule 93 



PAGE 

Etching 94 

A Tale 95 

Resignation 96 

Veils 97 

To My Mother 

Prayer 101 

Decoration 102 

April 102 

Flowers 103 

Three Moments 103 

Dance 104 

Glances 105 

Giving 105 

Lullabies 106 

Afterthought . 106 

Variations 

Wanderlied 109 

Dance 110 

Wizardry ill 

Caress ill 

Variation . .112 

Want 112 

March 113 

Sun 113 

Willows 114 

In the Dark . . 1 14 

Visit .115 

Nights 116 

Consultation 117 

Manna 118 

Jealousy 118 

Shadow 119 



PAGE 

Vision 119 

Two 120 

Contra Mundum 121 

Per Contra 121 

Priest 122 

Heaven 122 

Variations 123 

Devils . . 124 

Self-indulgence 125 

Desire 125 

Universe 126 

White Curtains 127 

Approbation 128 

Entity 128 

Birthday 129 

Betrothal 130 

Solitude 130 

Generation 131 

Epigram . 131 

Nearness 132 

Stillness 133 

Image 133 

Adam and Eve 134 

Others 134 

Portrait 135 

Misterman Kreymborg 137 



MUSHROOMS 
A BOOK OF FREE FORMS 



MUSHROOMS 

Mushrooms spring up over night, I'm told — the 
truth or reason let botanists prove. This much I know, 
this I can tell: when I go into the forest I love, I can 
find them everywhere. One of an exquisite hue of blue, 
another of a passionately clamorous of red; one of an 
elfish daintiness of form, and that distorted dream of 
Lear's. I can find each one, I can find them all, and 
still, I do not, dare not, pluck them. The forest, so 
rich, so lavish, such a king, wouldn't growl though I 
pluck all day. But I do not, will not — they would die, 
I know. 

Mushrooms spring up over night in my heart — the 
reason let philosophers guess. This much I know, this 
I can tell: myriads and myriads have I found down 
there, but only a handful have I plucked so far. I 
plucked them, yes, the few I could, lest they'd die with 
those I couldn't reach. One was a mood of pale, frail 
form; another a whimsical sprite; one was some black- 
browed child of Lear's — 

I carry them up to my hothouse attic, up to my gar- 
dener for cultivation. 



FUGUE 

Philosophy ? 

Oh yes ! 

To live, 

loving, 

creating. 

Faith? 

Oh yes! 

A belief in you, 

and you and you, 

in spite of your you 

and your you for you. 

Labor? 

Oh yes ! 

That my me and you 

may become or grow 

toward a you and me. 

Guerdon ? 

Ah yes! 

Your belief in me, 

and my me for you, 

in spite of my me 

and my me for me. 

Heaven ? 

Yes! 

To die, 

created, 

living. 



SONGS 

Who was Orpheus? 
A singer, lad. 
What did he sing? 
Songs. 

Why did he sing ? 
Ask him, lad. 
What kind of songs? 
Love. 

Then he's alive ? 

He is, lad. 

Where can I find him? 

Somewhere. 

Perhaps he's searching. 
Perhaps, lad. 
Looking for her? 
Yes. 

She isn't dead? 
Oh no, lad. 
Where is she hid? 
He knows. 

Isn't it strange, sir? 

No, lad. 

It isn't strange? 

No. 



VIGIL 

Little priestess: 

What do you guard there? 

Love. 

Little priestess: 

Why do you guard love ? 

/ have to. 

Little priestess : 

From whom'? Robbers? 

Children. 

Not children, 

little priestess, not children? 

Yes, children. 

Little children, 

Little priestess, little — ? 

Big. 

Ah, little priestess ! 



VISTA 

The snow, 

ah yes, ah yes indeed, 

is white and beautiful, white and beautiful, 

verily beautiful — 

from my window. 

The sea, 

ah yes, ah yes indeed, 

is green and alluring, green and alluring, 

verily alluring — 

from the shore. 

Love, 

ah yes, ah yes, ah yes indeed, 

verily yes, ah yes indeed ! 



DUEL 

Ragpicker Love, Ragpicker Love: 
Begone from that heart over there! 

/ like its odd little bloodish red rose, 
the prettiest ever I saw. 

Ragpicker Love, Ragpicker Love: 
That rose isn't yours — get away ! 

/ only want it for those I have home; 
my repertoire isn't complete. 

Ragpicker Love, Ragpicker Love: 
What's that that you leave in exchange ? 

Vm letting fall just a wee hit of joy, 
a dimpled white rose — there it goes! 

Ragpicker Love, Ragpicker Love- 
Come back, that is sorrow you gave! 

Sorrow, that queer little creamish white rose, 
that thornless, that pure little thing? 

Ragpicker Love, Ragpicker Love: 
Mine is a rose just like that. 

Then how can you judge of such matters as these? — 
Good bye, Vm off for home! 



SERENADE 

Little wild rose in the glass : 
Who was it — 
Bold and inquisitive sir: 
The lady. 

Little wild rose in the glass 
When was it — 
Bold and inquisitive sir: 
At bed time. 

Little wild rose in the glass: 
God keep you, 
Bold and inquisitive sir: 
Vm lonely. 

Little wild rose in the glass : 
I'll bring you — 
Little wild rose in the glass: 
A comrade. 

Bold and inquisitive sir: 
Good night then. 
Little wild rose in the glass : 
Good night. 



CREDO 

I sing the will to love : 
the will that carves the will to live, 
the will that saps the will to hurt, 
the will that kills the will to die; 
the will that made and keeps you warm, 
the will that points your eyes ahead, 
the will that makes you give, not get, 
a give and get that tell us what you are : 
how much a god, how much a human. 
I call on you to live the will to love. 



SCHERZETTO 

Stop, queer little dear! 

Why is a kiss? 

I don't know. 

You don't? 

No! 

Then why do you do it ? 

Love! 

Love? 

Yes! 

And why is love? 

I don't know. 

You don't? 

No! 

And why don't you know? 

Because ! 

Because ? 

Yes! 

Come, queer little dear! 



MAN TELLS 

Do you love that woman, sir? 
Yes, that which I make of her. 
Isn't she most beautiful *? 
Yes, because I think her so. 
Hasn't she the best of hearts? 
Yes, because I want it so. 
Then there might be more like her? 
Yes, the one you love. 



10 



WOMAN TELLS 

I know that you do, but — 

when last did you tell me? 

I know that you gave, but — 

what roses and roses! 

I know that you will, but — 

such kisses to go! 

I know, yes, I know, but — 

Begin ! 



ii 



THE WHIP OF THE UNBORN 

It is not she who rends me so — 

no, it is not she. 

These eyes are not hers that hate me so - 

no, they are not hers. 

Nor this her breath that flaunts me, 

nor these her arms that strangle — 

no, these are not hers. 

It is not I who rends me so — 

no, it is not I. 

This heart is not mine that goads me on 

no, this is not mine. 

Nor these my thoughts that flay me, 

nor this my soul that sneers me down — 

no, these are not mine. 

Nor that her whip that lashes me, 
nor that my whip' that lashes me — 
no, this is not ours. 



12 



PRESTISSIMO 

I want to hug all the people I love : 

I want to hug you, you ugly brown bear ; 

I want to hug you, you white caterpillar ; 

I want to hug you, you crocodile ; 

I've got to hug all of you. 

Don't you look at me that way ! 

Look at me any queer way but that ! 

If you love me a daisy-full, do ! 

Only last night, Ted looked at me so : 

I was hungry, starving, dying, dead, 

surrounded by folk in evening clothes; 

no one to hug or think of hugging, 

till Ted came in! Could I hold myself? 

I flew at him, leaped at him, 

climbed his legs, lassoed his neck 

and hugged the old shark — but he ? 

The evening clothes merely glared at me — 

but he stared at me ; he stared at me. 

That is exactly the way of your look, 

though I never leaped at you: 

You all divine my saccharine will 

and palsy my legs, though you love me. 

Wait, — some day, 

your eyes off guard, drunk, asleep, 

or a-tete with the moon — 

look out for me; I'm at you! 

Some of you are so nice and polite ; 

such of you call me slender. 

Some of you are so nice and frank ; 



13 



such of you call me skinny. 
Slender or skinny, I'll strangle you! 
Holy Smoke, my love is a brute ! 



14 



TO A. H. 

Dig your toes right into the soil, 

climb, leap up, old Side-kick! 

They boast you're down under blood and mud, 

our friends back here with me. 

But they can't see your muscular leg, 

nor the grin in your valiant eye; 

nor can they feel what I can feel : 

the sun in your valiant heart. 

So dig your toes right into the soil, 

climb, leap up — if the top you don't see, 

to Hell with the top — I believe- in you! 



i5 



TO M. L. 

Purple iris in the green bowl 
You ought to be brown. 
Flecked with three or four 
dizzy yellow midges. 
And not quite so stately — 
dance a moment, purple iris. 
Now 

you and the green bowl 
are more like her. 



16 



TO H. T. 

Don't love me! Hate me! 

I know I tell you I love you, 

but I don't: I love myself. 

I love the you in you I need for myself, 

the you in you that is eat and drink, 

the you in you that can fill my gap, 

but my belly-heart full of the food in you, 

I'm all right again till the next time, and then ? 

If you wont supply me, 

if you can't supply me, 

if all of the me in you has been used, 

somebody else will do as well. 

Even this scrawl, 

this don't love me, hate me, 

is sneaking my right hand out to you, 

with my left in hiding behind my back. 

Love me, 

love me when I love you 

with a me in me that I've made for you, 

but hate me, 

hate me till then. 

And yet? 

Ah for a bit of your love in advance ! 



17 



CHICOT 

Do they knife your heart till it rain black floods 
Love, Chicot, love! 

Do they scorn your soul till it freeze and crack? 
Laugh, Chicot, laugh ! 



18 



ON AND IN 

There's a wart on my nose and a patch on my pants 

who cares? 
'Gainst the itch in my veins from the hymn in my heart 

who dares? 



*9 



PARASITE 

Good woman: 

Don't love the man. 

Love yourself. 

As you have done so exquisitely before. 

Like that tortoise-shell cat of yours 

washing away the flies ; or are they fleas ? 

You've hurt him again? 

Good! 

Do it often. 

No. 

He'll love thee the more. 

Always. 

Remember how he forgave you the last time. 

And how he loved you in the forgiving. 

Gave him an adventure in godhood. 

And the higher moralities. 

Hurt him again. 

Fine! 



20 



SERVICE 

In its way, 

it was a beautiful world, 

though a thing 

he had fashioned as others fashion : 

out of blood and wine and milk and soul — 

though a thing of themes 

like an artless bubble, 

and round and smooth, like a bubble, 

and delicate, so delicate — 

they were his blood and wine and milk and soul. 

He offered it to her, 

the whole of it, 

(because he couldn't offer less) 

held it out to her, 

asked her to do what she would with it, 

asked her to destroy it if she would. 

And she did. 

She played with it. 



21 



SCARECROW 

In love with him? Not she. 

With love? Nor love. Not she. 

Look, see the tarn that she dug, 

full of tears, 

to the death of the trade that he plied, 

full of wares. 

Drag the uttermost floor of the pool : 

In love with art was she. 

Go away, would-be lover, go away! 

You are in love with her. 

With art? Not art. With love? Nor love. 

But her — run away, run away ! 



22 



TOWARD LOVE 

That beauty has begun to fall out of step 

is no excuse, 

that others have begun their skulking to the rear 

is no excuse, 

you who are beginning to compromise 

or to seek Some Other. 

Crucify Nature! 



23 



A SWORD 

A million-bladed sword, 

slashing the petty pates 

and sticking the smug stomachs of the past 

till the pink blood dribble 

and, with a roar of ribald song, 

a whirlwind of naked dance, 

flaunting the laughing boyish present on a pike 

against the stare and whisper of the doddering future 

a sword is love ! 



24 



THEY 

Vivacious Heart: 
Art tired, pumping? 
Go, rest a while. 

Indulgent Soul: 
I dare not stop. 
They'd censure me. 

Vivacious Heart: 
They're renegades. 
Come, rest a while. 



25 



CHAINS 

Men, men, who is he drags you along? 

Oblivion ! 

Where do you go, stay, stay ! 

To the dust cave — 

he loves dust, he hoards it, 

gathers it in mountains, 

blows it into clouds, 

blue clouds, green clouds, yellow clouds, gold 

they lift in gray spirals, 

they sail in the sun. 

But should the rain come — 

Should the rain come ? 

The rain and her silver chains ! 

The rain and her — 

Oh women, women, women, fly along! 



26 



ROMANCE 

That red-headed woodpecker, tapping my ear, 

(Come out and see there ! 

What? 

Over there! 

Where? 

Over there ! 

Yes, in the air.) 

is seven songs fair 

the peer of you all. 

Beware *? 

I don't care — 

I love him, the dear! 



27 



CONVENTION 

Beware of a pirate who will scuttle your ship, 
a cross-eyed toothless pirate! 

I'll blow my great horn, carved of dead men's skulls, 
right down your ear and freeze you. 

I'll stick my big thumb into your eye 
and my knife clean through your throat. 

I'll pull out my goblet and drink your blood 
while my foot rests on your belly. 

I'll laugh a loud laugh that'll shunt your soul to hell 
and spit on your face for an epitaph. 

I'll kick your carcass to its coffin, the sea, 
a sea that wont sing even a dirge for you. 

Then I'll yank down the flag that you hoisted up so high 
and raise the devil's own instead. . . . 

Beware of a pirate who will scuttle your ship, 
a cross-eyed toothless pirate ! 

I crawl aboard when your sails begin to fail — 
the sails that are blown by the strength of your will. 



LEOPARDS 

Look at that nigger there! 

The big shiny cat-muscled leopard ! 

It's great to be living, man. 

Eh? 

You wont? 

Look at that nigger, man ! 

You filthy prig — 

his mother 

was as clean as yours — 

slut or no slut. 

Look at him, man ! 

Eh? 

God blind you, man ! 

Turn your eyes out, not in! 

There's a world out there — 

not a jungle. 

Look, man! 



29 



THE TREE 

I am four monkeys. 

One hangs from a limb, 

tail-wise, 

chattering at the earth; 

another is cramming his belly with cocoanut; 

the third is up in the top branches, 

quizzing the sky; 

and the fourth — 

he's chasing another monkey. 

How many monkeys are you? 



30 



UNDER GLASS 

If I could catch that moth, 

that fluttering, wayward thing 

that beats about inside me all the day and half the night, 

(an insignificant net could certainly do it) 

I'd stick him through the head 

with a pin that's long and thin, 

a pin that's long and strong enough to mount him under 

glass ; 
(an insignificant pin could certainly do it) 
I'd learn of him once for all, 
the color of his wings, 
the nature of those crazy things that fooled me all these 

years : 
purple, red or blue, 
yellow, white or black, 
or whether they're one and all of these and a shade or 

two besides ; 
(an insignificant harmony or dissonance they could be) 
I'd learn them once for all, 
I'd know them, every vein, 
so clear to all my neighbors, so invisible — to me. 



3i 



YEARNING 

Funny solemn little old gray owl, 

perched beside me in this dreary cage : 

if you and I could see, 

we could see the sun, 

a bright yellow nut, so they say. 

We can see the moon, you say, 

but he's so gloomy, funny owl; 

the dark, you say, 

but he's so black. 

We can see the stars, you say, 

but they're so weary, funny owl ; 

the birds, you say, 

but they're so sad. 

The sun that we smell every day, funny owl, 

a bright yellow nut, as they say — 

if we could only see, we might snatch him. 

Do not nudge me, funny solemn little old gray owl, 

don't be angry, I but ponder here beside you. 

The moon, yes, the dark, 

yes, the stars in our cage, 

we ourselves, are real, are great. 

But if you and I could see, 

we might eat the sun, 

a bright yellow nut, so they say. 



32 



TO A MALTESE 

Tell me, little cat, stop and tell me, little cat : 
Wherefore is life, think you? 

You're poking that paper ball, little cat : 
You're poking that paper ball. 

Tell me, little cat, stop and tell me, little cat 
Wherefore is life, think you ? 

You're lapping away your milk, little cat : 
You're lapping away your milk. 

Tell me, little cat, stop and tell me, little cat : 
Wherefore is life, think you *? 

You're washing your soft gray coat, little cat : 
You're washing your soft gray coat. 

Tell me, little cat, stop and tell me, little cat : 
Wherefore is life, think you ? 

You're purring and falling asleep, little cat : 
You're purring and falling asleep . . . 



33 



LIFE 

I met four guinea hens to-day, 
creaking like pulleys. 

"A crrk," said one, 
" a crrk," said two, 
" a crrk," said three, 
" a crrk," said four. 

I agree with you, cheerfully, ladies. 



34 



TO A CANARY 

Piano, pianissimo, gay yellow bird, not so loud, I beg 

of you! 
We're trying to make a bit of a song, I and my old 

bassoon. 
We know our toodling is dreadfully vague, as vague as 

our innermost selves. 
But we didn't learn in a school, dear bird, the woods, 

not a cage, bore us. 

Piano, pianissimo, gay yellow bird, not so loud, I beg 

of you ! 
A moment ago, how happy we were; we'd almost made 

our tune. 
You with your purling, chirping and trills, stopped it, 

silenced it short. 
You with your noise that you fling at us — we who 

revere your art. 

Piano, pianissimo, gay yellow bird, not so loud, I beg 
of you ! 

Cannot you hear that we are done, humbled, I and bas- 
soon? 

Is songing a killing of amateurs? that is not big, but 
vain. 

And we sang to nobody but ourselves ; the world we left 
to you. 



35 



ANTS 

Who made the world, sir? 

I don't know, son — 

See the ants on that hill, with a fly. 

Who made the world, sir? 

Some say that God — 

The fly is dead, son. 

They're dragging him to their hole. 

Who made God, sir*? 

I don't know — 

Now he's gone, son. 

The ants are an indefatigable race. 

Who made God, sir"? 

Observe how they swarm all over the hill. 

They're hunting another fly. 

They're funny, sir. 
They are. 



36 



THEOLOGY 

The night is a circus tent. 

The stars are peep holes 

the bad ones have made 

to spy on us. 

Why aren't the gods like us? 

Why don't they pay 

and come in the way we did*? 

Are they poor? 

Are they cheats'? 

Maybe they fear we'd make clowns of them ? 

Suppose we did; 

aren't clowns the gods of our circus? 

What's the matter with those fellows? 

Tell them to climb down 

and come in free. 

We don't want them staring in on us. 

It annoys the performers. 



2,7 



PROGRESS 

Quoth a god: 

See them move, 

slowly, serenely, onward, 

through mountains and all, 

stretching and dragging 

their long steel bodies, 

their slimy bodies, 

rib by rib, 

across continents, 

and leaving their spawn, 

cities, 

behind them. 

Egregious worms! 



38 



IN A DREAM 

Oh what delirious fun this is, 

this juggling of crazy balloons! 

Up with the crimson one ; 

down comes the blue; 

up with the copper one; 

down comes the gold; 

up with the cinnamon — 

up with them, each of them, all of them here : 

the evening star and Venus and Mars, 

the morning star and the whole milky way ! 

I am tossing and catching them, catching and tossing 

them, 
hundreds of worlds at one time. 
Toss and catch, catch and toss, toss and catch, catch and 

toss, 
more than a child am I! 
Oh what delirious fun this is ! 
Up with Minerva and down with the moon; 
up with old Saturn and down with the sky ; 
up with the blistering jolly hot sun — 
Who ever played with balloons and balloons, 
such hundreds of worlds at one time ? 
Big strong Atlas — he had but one, 
the one he was doomed to carry, 
while I toss and catch, catch and toss, toss and catch, 

catch and toss, 
all at one time — Great Jove, great Zeus, great Jupiter 

save us — 
I almost dropped that little brown ball, 



39 



that little brown ball, the earth ! 

Had I dropped that ball, that little brown ball, 

that little brown ball, the earth? 



40 



WHAT CAN YOU DO? 

It's absurd, I know, 
to be so happy. 
Still worse, I know, 
to be a fool : 
And worst, I know, 
to have no reason : 
To be so happy, 
without a sou. 

Come search my pockets, 
and you can't find one. 
Still worse, my home ; 
you'll find me poor. 
And worst, my credit: 
you'll find me pauper. 
To be so happy, 
without a sou? 

Tobacco's gone, 
but I am happy. 
The next meal, where? 
I'm happier still: 
absurd, I know: 
(but what can you do?) 
that I'm so happy, 
without a sou. 



41 



PENNIES 

John is a vender of trinkets — 
with a wife, little Jim and Joe. 

Ann is an Irish seamstress — 
Mary and Christ gladden her. 

He sold — she bought a crucifix, 
with the image in gold, all in gold. 

She gave — he took fifteen pennies — 
little Jim and Joe are wild. 

For fifteen pennies, there'll be chicken to-night. 
For fifteen pennies, she can pray. 



42 



TODAY 

Dance, garret, dance your maddest ! 

Come down, ceiling, dance with the floor ! 

Walls, a minuet chaste, the four of you ! 

Pictures, go you, jig it gay! 

Chairs, dip, tango it, I wont see you! 

You two doors, do a hoochi koochi ! 

As for me, Boys, loon I'll be 

and kick a hole right through the sky! 

Done ! Now all of us dance a ring around 

Ma Familias, Old Mother Dream, 

who each day sends up four meals to us 

through our uncle, Careless Care! 

Done ! Now all of us sing the food she brought, 

she, herself, climbing all those stairs : 

Today, this day, this very-very day, 

she sold this very-very poem! 



43 



EVERY MORNING 

Our halls are very dark. 

But not so dark we cannot see, 

every morning, 

a bent old figure, 

kneeling, 

on the steps or in the halls, 

scrubbing — 

what you call a janitress. 

Good morning, she says. 

Good morning, say we. 

Our halls are very dark. 

But not so dark — 



44 



NOCTURNE 

The pantaloons are dancing, 
dancing through the night, 
pure white pantaloons, 
underneath the moon, 
on a jolly wash line, 
skipping from my room, 
over to Miranda, 
who washed them this noon. 



45 



MOOD 

How beautiful the smooth black limbs of Night ! 
How dangerous their stealthy undulation! 
Not so the sated limbs of bourgeois Day! 

And her invitation: 

Come with me. 

I know a place far off. 

Be free. 

Your wife and public tongues — 

pay them your conscience ; 

I ask no pay. 

Others have lain with me? 

Yes, aristocrats. 

How beautiful . . . 

Dangerous. . 

Wait, Night, I follow, I follow thee ! 



46 



PRISONERS 

Girl, girl, 

running so fast: 

Please don't imprison them so. 

They're drunk with blood 

like the rest of you, 

they love to laugh 

like your eyes and hair, 

they're crazy to romp 

like your legs and arms — 

girl, down with your hands ! 

This is a moral town? 
What do you care? 



47 



GROTESQUE 

Lady, fat lady, 

weeping such tears : 

You need a quilt 

not a kerchief. 

Were you the shadow, 

the bulk of a flea, 

my grasshopper knees — 

Dear stout lady : 

Why are you large and I small? 



48 



TO CIRCE 

Voice, voice, marvelous voice: 
come, come back to me! 
Pelt me with fresher wild roses; 
caress me with still bluer anemones; 
bruise me with thornier thistles ; 
embrace, imprison, smother me 
with the merriest of buttercups and daisies ! 
Circe, come, 

come back for one superlative moment, 
and I will be all your swine in one, 
your lowest groveller, your funniest of mirelings ! 
Nor need you pelt me, caress or bruise; 
only come, 

come back ere I run mad 

inside this miserable, yearning, incomprehensible, beauty- 
worshipping I of mine! 



49 



CORTEGE 

Dear gray-eyed Sorrow: 

Be comforted. 

Smile. 

All of us love you. 

We love you with a human love. 

There are no gods, 

no thunderers, 

no hurlers of joy 

among us. It is we 

who walk with you. 

Whisper him 

you have led so gently, 

so far along, 

who used to smile — 

didn't he? 

We love him too. 

Dear gentle Lady : 

You are weary. 

Your step is slow, so slow. 

Lift your head. 

Listen. 

Don't you hear the thrumming of trees' 

Look — do you see rivers dancing ? 

Tell him. 



5o 



BACH 

Let us pile stones 

to silence in solitude 

high enough 

and of such art 

to see and not be seen. 

Trees 

let there be none, 

nor water or sand. 

Since it must be 

let there come 

that which calls him back, 

the tragi-comic wind. . . . 

Have the place watched. 

Not all — 

some of the stars 

might do. 

But none of the moons. 

Nay — 

let's have them all 

with the night as it consummates dawn ! 

Then we wont have to hide ! 



5i 



SCHUBERT 

And over there 

sat a beautiful child, 

a child with a beautiful face, 

a child with beautiful hands ; 

but its body was deformed, 

its eyes were deeply melancholy. 

It smiled from time to time: 

its mouth smiled, 

but its eyes remained melancholy; 

its cheeks smiled, 

but its eyes remained melancholy; 

its brows smiled, 

but its eyes remained melancholy; 

mouth, cheeks, brows, 

its whole face smiled — 

but its eyes remained unchanged. 

In the next room, 

they were playing Schubert. 



52 



CEZANNE 

Our door was shut to the noon-day heat. 

We could not see him. 

We might not have heard him either — 

resting, dozing, dreaming pleasantly. 

But his step was tremendous — 

are mountains on the march ? 

He was no man who passed. 
But a great faithful horse 
dragging a load 
up the hill. 



53 



MISTRESS ART 

Her roving witches' eyes had sighted him at work. 
And the glance that lighted them so suddenly 
betrayed the desire of her heart, 
a desire which quickly found its way to her tongue: 

" Ah, Child ! Come to me ! Serve me ! Listen : 
I crave a golden blue bowl." 

He made her a golden blue bowl. 

" 'Tis passing fair," she said, " but I am weary of it now. 
I crave a song of love." 

He made her a song of love. 

" 'Tis passing fair," she said, " but I am weary of that 

too. 
I crave a sculptured mermaid." 

And he made her a sculptured mermaid. 

" 'Tis passing fair," she said, " but I am weary of that 

as well. 
I crave an orange-tinted butterfly." 

Instead of an orange-tinted butterfly, 
he complained: 

" Stay, Mistress, I can no more. 

Stay, Mistress, I grow tired. 

Ah stay, stay, Mistress, I grow sick, I fall, I die — " 

54 



But she did not hear. 

Her roving witches' eyes had sighted another at work. 

And immediately she was heard to call: 

" Ah, Child ! Come to me ! Serve me ! Listen : 
I crave — " 



55 



CULTURE 

There is only one. 
Only one sun. 
Only one moon. 
And you too. 
Be that. 



56 



CHILDREN 

They live ; we exist. 
They feel ; we think. 
They come; we go. 

They play ; we fumble. 

They dream, awake ; we dream, asleep. 

They sleep; we toss. 

We cannot be. 
But let us try. 



57 



PRODIGY 

Sighed a child: 

Down there, 

I see such millions of them, 

each one so dignified, 

each one a man. 

Don't they ever play? 



58 



BROOM 

Tiny boy, 

staring at me 

with eyes like toy balloons : 

That broom is much bigger than you. 

Put it down. 

You wont? 

Then don't put it down. 



59 



KIDS 

A wee white girl, 

dancing, 

to a hurdy gurdy, 

with a wee black girl, 

and both laughing. 



60 



PREJUDICE 

Little mouse: 

Are you 

some rat's little child? 

I wont love you if you are. 



61 



NEPHEWS AND NIECES 



CHARLES: 

So soon you've tired of that toy? 

Who can blame you — with more to come, 

throw it away, you're wise! 

But hark to this from one who knows: 

that when you grow a great big man, 

they'll preach you life's a serious thing — 

to throw away your last toy too — 

but don't you heed them, hark to me : 

Save it — you will need one then ! 



65 



EVELYN: 

School, you say, is the place to go, 
and the bigger your books, the more you learn, 
and the more you learn, the smarter you grow, 
and the smarter you grow, the better you are*? 
I'd like to be smarter and better, myself, 
but all the books in this old world 
can't teach me even my ABC — 
after a glimpse of your two small eyes. 



66 



CLARA: 

Ah to be your baby doll, 

to have you braid my yellow curls, 

to have you pat my ruddy cheeks, 

to have you rub my drowsy eyes, 

to have you croon my tired ears, 

to have you lay me in that crib, 

to have you kiss my mouth " good night " ! 

To be your doll so long, little girl, 

I'd give the whole of my thirty years. 



«7 



THE TWINS 



How dare you rascals look the same? 
Don't tell me you were born that way! 
You're in league with evil angels 
to steal all cookies here below; 
then you call each other, thief! 
I'll let you free — wont snitch on you - 
but you must whisper, just to me : 
Can I find a twin somewhere? 



68 



BABY HOWARD: 

Hey, crooked animal, crawling there: 
What do you call that bug you found? 
" Boo " ? — what a wonderful name ! 
And what do you call those fuzzy chicks ? 
" Boo " again *? — what a wonderful name ! 
And what do you call that jolly red ball*? 
" Boo " again ? — what a wonderful name ! 
Gee, that everything were " boo " to me ! 



69 



RAYMOND (A FEW DAYS OLD) 

You too? 

I didn't see you at first. 

When did you come ? 

And why? 

Just to blink your eyes a few times'? 

I hope you'll stay a while 

and enjoy yourself. 

We need noisy chaps like you. 



70 



LITTLE FOLK 

Of late, 

I've been craving a child, 

the adoption of a child. 

Not a child of mine — 

I have no blood for that, 

and that requires two — 

but an ordinary child, 

like myself, 

who will be serious with me, 

playfully, 

and play with me, 

seriously — 

I have quarts of blood for that. 

Little One : 

Will you adopt me? 



7i 



BALLY-BOO 

Bad Boy This, Bad Boy That: 

If you don't lie still on Mother's lap, 

Big Green Frog will come for you 

with his bally-bally-boo, bally-boo. 

His big bass voice will freeze you through: 

Bally-bally-boo, bally-boo. 

Good Boy This, Good Boy That: 

Now you're still on Mother's lap, 

Little White Dove will come for you 

with his bally-bally-boo, bally-boo. 

His little soft voice will warm you through 

Bally-bally-boo, bally-boo. 

Best Boy This, Best Boy That: 

You he'll take from Mother's lap, 

Faraway Moonbeam, come for you, 

with his bally-bally-boo, bally-boo. 

His faraway voice will sleep you through: 

Bally-bally-boo, bally-boo. 



72 



LAMENT 

Sad World: 

I wish you were small 

that I might lift you to my lap 

and sing you to the rest 

that you have never rested. 

Some sleepy soft thing 

that wakeful mothers sing 

would do it. 

I have such a song in me 

Dear World: 

I wish you were small. 



73 



OLD MANUSCRIPT 

The sky 

is that beautiful old parchment 

in which the sun 

and the moon 

keep their diary. 

To read it all, 

one must be a linguist 

more learned than Father Wisdom; 

and a visionary 

more clairvoyant than Mother Dream. 

But to feel it, 

one must be an apostle : 

one who is more than intimate 

in having been, always, 

the only confidant — 

like the earth 

or the sea. 



74 



EARTH WISDOM 

Said the earth: 
I love you, flower. 
Go up and see the sun. 
And feel the rain — it's soft. 
Winds will play with you, 
merry winds. 
But see that great blue — 
/ like that round blue — 
/ want that high blue — 

Said the earth : 

I love you, flower. 

It is late. 

Come back to me. 

/ don't want to — 

/ wont — 

/ want the moon — 

/ want — 

You've been playing too long, flower. 

That isn't good for you. 

Nor fair to the morrow. 

Come, 

said the earth. 



75 



WHAT DECEMBER TOLD JANUARY 

Don't you believe in snow flakes ? 

I do. 

They find their way down here — 

they are sent 

by the black clouds 

to remind us 

that their first cousins, 

the moths, 

have merely gone on a vacation 

to their mothers', 

the white clouds. 

(Folks must rest, even from play.) 

That is to say, 

black clouds and white clouds 

are brother and sister, 

snow flakes 

and moths, spring and love — 

Spring and love? 

My dear sir, you surely believe in them? 

Do! 



76 



SPRINGTIME 

Willow : Why do you bend so low 
with your staring into the stream? 
Only to see how deep it is! 

Fool : Do you think you're beardless still 

and meditating suicide? 

Only to find if one might wade I 

Lilies and cat-tails belong to the young, 
and the water is cold this time of year. 
Only to touch my love over there! 

Your love? you love? and which is she? 
that wrinkled, gnarled, old bandy-leg? 
The one with the gay white limbs! 

Dotard : What could she see in you ? 
She'd yank your beard and laugh away. 
She's nodding her head at me! 



77 



DOGWOOD 

His feet are run mad with anemones? 
His hair streaked white over night? 

He's tearing soft clouds 

from the sky 

again — 

dear old funny wood at his age ! 



78 



IDEALISTS 

Brother Tree: 

Why do you reach and reach? 

do you dream some day to touch the sky? 

Brother Stream: 

Why do you run and run? 

do you dream some day to fill the sea? 

Brother Bird: 

Why do you sing and sing? 

do you dream — 

Young Man: 

Why do you talk and talk and talk? 



79 



DAISIES 

Daisy dear : 

Look you as far as you can : 

Is this a white world we live in ? 

Xo sir, it has its yellow as well. 

But daisy : 

The next field, the next and beyond? 

They have their yellow as well. 

But daisy : 

It should be, will be a white world we live in? 
It isnt a matter of should, sir, or will: 
Nor would I have should if I could. 



80 



CLOUDS 

The sun 

leaned out, 

a moment ago, 

to steal a peep at the earth, 

and finding that he hadn't gone away, 

pulled in her head again. 

The earth, 

in fact, 

hadn't thought of it, 

never schemes, 

wouldn't dream of going away. 

The sex 

of this drama, 

since sex it must be — 

well, look at her now, 

come spying again, 

with an eye much larger 

and fierce to behold ! 

Can you flout me for deeming her, she? 



81 



RAIN 

The leaves are happy again. 

So are the robins. 

Me too. 

It rained just now. 

What's wrong with you? 

You worm. 

Grin! 



82 



A CLEAR DAY 

Sky: 

Nowhere in you is affectation. 

Is it that you alone are blue? 
Is it that you alone are high ? 

Sky: 

Take me to you! 



83 



PONG 

Between two bricks 

that play pedestal 

to a box of geraniums 

he makes his home — 

three inches wide, six deep and two high. 

By day, 

he sits there 

solemnly, 

alone, 

watching the world that passes 

and chewing his cud 

like any sage. 

At night, 

he adds his song 

to that of lovers — 

a single buoyant note, 

a single pong. 

He is old 

and young, 

that frog. 



84 



SUNDAY 

There came along 

down the lane 

waddling genially, 

nodding amiably, 

like a girl 

on her way to Sunday school 

with her prayer book, 

(save 

that he led a small cart 

quite as inoffensive as himself 

laden with corn and potatoes and cauliflower 

and cheerful beets) 

his rhomboid head 

mounted by a pyramidal straw hat — 

there came 

an old thin horse, 

alone 

and so absent-minded, 

he did not return my bow, 

but waddled on, 

veered off into another lane 

and disappeared. 



GIVE TO ME 

Every drop in the eternal seas, 
every star in the eternal skies, 
every seed in the eternal earth, 
passionately, this is its cry: 
Give to me, Life, give to me! 

To every drop in the eternal seas, 
to every star in the eternal skies, 
to every seed in the eternal earth, 
dispassionately, this is Life's cool reply: 
Give to me life ; life give to me. 

For every drop in the eternal seas, 
for every star in the eternal skies, 
for every seed in the eternal earth, 
compassionately, Death requests of his wife 
Give to me, Life, give to me. 



86 



IMPROVISATION 

Wind: 

Why do you play 

that long beautiful adagio, 

that archaic air, 

to-night ? 

Will it never end? 

Or is it the beginning, 

some prelude you seek? 

Is it a tale you strum? 
Yesterday, yesterday — 
Have you no more for usl 

Wind: 

Play on. 

There is nor hope 

nor mutiny 

in you. 



87 



CHEESE 

Rats overrun his cellar. 
He salts their cheese with poison. 
The excellent cannibals eat each other. 
The eaters die with the eaten. 
Some such pleasant fodder 
(he claims it brings on asthma) 
ought to be carelessly strewn about — 
for these hungry inventors of war. 



MOTHER TO MOTHER 

Mary Mother: 
Unborn children — 
who will keep them, 
wake them, sleep them, 
find them play room? 

Baby Mother: 
I will keep them, 
sleep them, wake them — 
in my heart, play 
unborn children. 



89 



OVERHEARD IN AN ASYLUM 

And here we have another case, 
quite different from the last, 
another case quite different — 
Listen. 

Baby, drink. 
The war is over. 
Mother's breasts 
are round with milk. 

Baby, rest. 
The war is over. 
Only pigs 
slop over so. 

Baby, sleep. 
The war is over. 
Daddy's come 
with a German coin. 

Baby, dream. 
The war is over. 
You'll be a soldier 
too. 

We gave her the doll — 

Now there we have another case, 

quite different from — 



90 



THE LAPIDARY 

Said Lord War to Lady Life : 

Your eyes would make beautiful stones 

stones more beautiful than your eyes. 

I like them. 

Just bend your neck three inches nearer. 

One little blow will cut it. 

You wont feel the rest. 

As for the future Lady Life — 

she will wear them and profit thereby. 



9i 



AMERICA 

Up and down he goes 

with terrible, reckless strides, 

flaunting great lamps 

with joyous swings — 

one to the East 

and one to the West — 

and flaunting two words 

in a thunderous call 

that thrills the hearts of all enemies: 

All, One; All, One; All, One; All, One! 

Beware that queer, wild, wonderful boy 

and his playground; don't go near! 

All, One; All, One; All, One; All, One 

Up and down he goes. 



92 



THULE 

This is no new battle — 

immense though it be. 

This is the battle of always — 

common to men as in things. 

And that land, 

that beautiful place, 

receding, receding so far away; 

that is no new land — 

dream though it be. 

That is the land of never. 



93 



ETCHING 

There were seven in all, 

clothed in black, 

seven silent crows, 

standing, 

not quite vertical, 

around an ebony box; 

and in the box, 

an eighth, 

lying quite horizontal. 



94 



A TALE 

Is it every other year that narcissi bloom? 

I don't know — anyhow : 

She wanted narcissi to bloom for her. 

She planted some bulbs in her garden. 

The first year, no, 

the second year, no, 

and the third year, no, 

none came. 

But the fourth year — 

well, she was stricken with a fever, 

a dainty silly fever, 

and away she went, 

yellow-eyed, white and thin, 

to a drug house many many miles away. 

Narcissi came? 

Oh yes, just one. 

And it died, and she too? 

Of course ! 



95 



RESIGNATION 

Death, thou silent partner of Life: 

Translate thyself. 

Thou who art ever near unto Life, 

seeing and unseen: 

What is thy purpose? 

Is it but taking Life by the hand to guide him to the grave, 

or is it to lead him beyond ? 

Translate thy purpose, or tell me of this grave. 

Is it an infinite sleep, 

a soft, painless quieting of Life's life, 

or is it an awakening, 

a kindly, loving executer of his dream? 

Thou art silent? 

It is well. 

I trust thee even so. 



96 



VEILS 

Habit makes it grow easy and easier. 
This peeling of veils from my heart. 
One of these days I'll have the brute naked. 
/, for one, want to see him. 



97 



TO MY MOTHER 



PRAYER 

Existence, the place where one does one's bleeding, 

Life, its Golgotha, 

Love, its crucifix, 

Self, the mob that does the scorning, 

and Nature, the god who goads them on. 

Mother mine: 

Help me to love. 



IOI 



DECORATION 

I have only thoughts for you. 
And you never wanted anything. 



APRIL 

April is here again. 

The flowers are back. 

Did you send them — 

these violets? 

I'm sure you sent some of them 

one or two*? 



102 



FLOWERS 

Flowers never decked her table. 

To be sure, 

there are other matters. 

As she proved. 

Unconsciously. 



THREE MOMENTS 

Mother mine: 

Did I ever tell you: 

(I wonder 

can you recall) 

I love you ? 

It would be fine 

could I see you again — 

you come back to me, 

I go out to you — 

for three moments. 

I don't think I ever told you, 

and I know I rarely — 

Just for three moments, 

Mother mine. 



103 



DANCE 

I went to a dance last night. 

And it occurred to me, 

somehow, 

that you and Father used to dance — 

though I never saw you. 

Folk speak of it, 

gently, 

with tender admiration. 

It must have been fun dancing with you. 

Though you were small. 

I'm growing "younger these days. 
After a fashion. 
I'll be a dancer some day. 
May I have the next dance? 
That old Strauss waltz 
the wind is playing for you? 
You used to love me, too — 
will you? 



104 



GLANCES 

Dear pure gray eyes : 

Your glance follows me 

through my worst darknesses, 

saves me from my worst selves, 

almost. 

It isn't your fault. 

I ought to be the best of mortals. 



GIVING 

From the very beginning, 
you gave me 
bodily nourishment 
and spiritual. 

You give me — 



105 



LULLABIES 

If I could sing as you sang, 
if I could love as you, 
I'd croon you to sleep, 
I'd hum you to rest, 
as you did me 
at night. 

And nights are long 

out there. 

And voices strange 

and shrill. 

I'd croon you to sleep, 

I'd hum you to rest, 

if I could love as you. 



AFTERTHOUGHT 

Christ: 

What do you think of her ? 



106 



VARIATIONS 



WANDERLIED 

I who wandered 
used to wonder 
why they call it, 
Silvermine. 

I who wandered 
found a secret 
lump of gold, a 
goldmine ! 

Now I wonder 
folk so prudent 
dared to call it, 
Silvermine : 

I who wonder 
how a wanderer 
learned to sigh, ah 
ladymine ! 



109 



DANCE 

Moon dance, 

you were not to blame. 

Nor you, 

lovely white moth. 

But I saw you together. 



no 



WIZARDRY 

Your hands, 
so strong, 
so cool, 
wizards 
improvising sleep 



CARESS 

It was as though one of those trees 

the tallest of them, 

that compassionate one — 

had bent over me for a moment. 



in 



VARIATION 

Till you came — 
I was I. 



WANT 

Am I a beggar? 

It isn't my fault. 

I was so rich, 

without care, without want 



112 



MARCH 

The air is drenched with the noise of wind. 
I with the noise of you. 



SUN 

Your hair is full of sun. 
And you. 

Your hair is full of sun. 
Me too! 



113 



WILLOWS 

This amphitheater of willows 

praying that tarn 

are my mes 

in constant attendance 

on you. 



IN THE DARK 

Lunatic : 

Stop beating those bars. 
/ want to get out — 
But you keep us awake. 
/ want to get out to her. 



114 



VISIT 

Blow sixteen blasts on your piccolo, Satan 

shoot Hell up here. 

And you, God, drop me a load of clouds, 

the sun and moon? 

A truce, equality this once, I pray; 

let earth be king. 

Our good, green, brown, our sad old earth - 

she, Heaven, is coming down! 



"5 



NIGHTS 

There are such things as nights, I know. 
That nights can breed a spawn called doubt. 
I know that you are in terror of them. 
That you no longer lie with them. 
That you have had such offspring. 

Go, lie with them, lie with them always. 

And think of me. 

I never doubt you. 

I lie with nights and think of you. 

Our thoughts breed faith. 



116 



CONSULTATION 

I will consult the sea about it: 

my big brave sea. 

He is a serene old fellow. 

I will carry him this tumult of mine 

this will to kill, this will to die. 

And he, — 

down there at the bottom of me — 

he will smile. 



ii7 



MANNA 

You can't disappoint, 
hurt anybody — 
not even a straw. 
Isn't that why 
you said, yes*? 



JEALOUSY 

Your mouth 

pressed to my ear 

is some shell 

betraying secrets of the deep. 

Mine to yours — 

but nobody cares what mine tells you, 

so why tell them ? 



118 



SHADOW 

The never-old old, 
the ever-new new: 
the sky in you, 
the earth in me. 

And the ever-never! 



VISION 

They cannot know your beauty, dear. 

Its heights, depths, levels. 

They haven't seen you, 

your face abloom, 

in some solitude — 

like our rendezvous wood 

where mushrooms grow. 



119 



TWO 

The child in you 

loves me. 

I dream 

a world of us 

which cannot be 

till you 

love me. 



120 



CONTRA MUNDUM 

There is one sanctuary 
that is never shut — 
to you. 



PER CONTRA 

Don't weep. 
There is sanctuary 
from me, 
as well. 
Come. 



121 



PRIEST 

I burn candles, 
candles — 
and no two alike 
at an altar. 



HEAVEN 

We didn't make Heaven. 

I want 

the one small life 

we have made. 



122 



VARIATIONS 

Even you 

are variations, 

variations 

never the same : 

hair and eyes and 

moods and smiles and 

curves and kisses — 

girl, mother, woman, child 

each and all so 

never the same. 

So many to keep ! 
So many to come ! 



123 



DEVILS 

So you have a real bad devil ? 

My, that's bully: 

so have I! 

Come, let's shut them up together: 

there to live 

till they love. 

Then let's let them out, the darlings 

you grab mine, 

I grab yours. 

And go make them hug the others : 

all those devils, 

our good angels. 

The more the love, 

the more the life — 

Will you? 



124 



SELF-INDULGENCE 

Most of my kindness to you 
is kindness to me. 
Do you mind? 



DESIRE 

Even 
my desire 
of you 
is a desire 
to annihilate 
the last squirm 
of me. 



125 



UNIVERSE 

There is an abysmal whirlpool, 

a universe of blood — 

always. 

Your mouth grips mine, 

and a celestial calm, 

a universe of you — 

instead. 



126 



WHITE CURTAINS 

On occasion 

when my heart is cool 

it lives, 

like the gentle white curtains of my room, 

the yellow of the sun, 

the green of the walls, 

you — 

everything 

that isn't me. 



127 



APPROBATION 

Nature 

strokes my hair 
and smiles. 



ENTITY 

I am. 
And you. 
And atoms. 
Censure ? 
Forgiveness ? 
Why? 



128 



BIRTHDAY 

You were born. 
Funny, isn't it? 
So was I. 

Billions of lives between. 
Before and after. 
To come. 

You gave me you. 
Funny, isn't it? 
I gave you me. 

But some say that God 

gave me you — 

Did He give you me? 

Well, 

if I have giving to do — 

Perhaps there's some corner He overlooked 

I hope so. 

Funny, isn't it? 



129 



BETROTHAL 

Thank you, sirs. 

But this is our funeral. 

We made it. 

So take your flowers elsewhere. 



SOLITUDE 

Always, 

always, 

I craved solitude. 

It came with you. 



130 



GENERATION 

May a new love, 

raised 

from my more of you 

and my less of me, 

unfold. 



EPIGRAM 

Isn't it 

that we like each other 

quite a little more 

than we dislike each other 

that we love each other ? 



131 



NEARNESS 

Farther away. 
Being so near. 

Strangers. 
Even now. 

Music gone. 
Music here. 
But so much unheard. 

Farther away. 
Being so near. 

Beauty. 

The one serenity. 

This. 



132 



STILLNESS 

There she lies. 
Asleep. 

All-the-world watches. 
Mute. 



IMAGE 

The pale wild geranium 
on its crucifix leaves 
would do. 



133 



ADAM AND EVE 

What shall be thought 
in after days, 
wept of us, 
laughed of us? 
Do children care? 

Perhaps 

when they grow 
to warfare 
like ours — 
they may think 
something. 



OTHERS 

And 

there were so many more. 

They could not 

find their way. 

I could not 

keep them. 

And 

there are. 



134 



PORTRAIT 

Say, 

do, 

what you will, 

what you cannot help, 

and though 

for the surprise of a moment 

it seems to her 

as you say or do — 

after that in her 

which is herself 

has heard, 

as soon as that 

has begun its gentle revolutions, 

its quaint defence of you, 

the cheery labor of which she is unaware, 

(don't you see it in her eyes?) 

you, 

like me and all the others, 

are good: 

you cannot be otherwise — 

(does she shake her head at you?) 

she deems you innocent, 

(does she laugh a little, roguishly?) 

laughs 

to your wicked corner, 

wishes 

hers might be like yours 

that she might be like you! 



Don't question it — 
praise her for it — 



135 



wonder whence it came. 

Don't scare her with homage — 

be glad! 

And if you are ashamed, 

if you are the fool who feels shame, 

begone, 

rush it away, 

down into yourself, 

anywhere — 

don't let her see ! 



136 



MISTERMAN KREYMBORG 



MISTERMAN KREYMBORG 

My father's name was Kreymborg — 

Herrmann Kreymborg. 

It isn't a pretty name. 

It isn't a name one remembers. 

How can you — 

you've never heard it, read it before? 

Seeing it now, 

you'll call it unpronounceable, 

German, Norwegian, Danish, Dutch, 

or something — and let it go, 

never find it in your memory . . . 

It is so with us. 

With most of us. 

My father was a shopkeeper. 

In the days of Indians, 

he'd push a gaudily painted Indian on rollers 

out in front of a morning 

and roll it back of a night. 

It was a tobacco shop. 

That was his life. 

Herrmann Kreymborg had five children. 
(We'll only concern ourselves 
with the fifth of the five just now.) 
Being a man of some slight imagination, 
along with the rest of him, 
Kreymborg, 

in approaching this fifth of the five, 
said to his wife: 

139 



" Family names wont do. 

We've tried them before. 

Not without success. 

But for this one 

we must use something else." 

He searched the telephone book, 

a business directory, 

advertisements in the newspapers, 

signs over shops and on shop windows, 

and finally, a dictionary of names. 

He came upon Alfred. 

He liked it, 

pretty or no. 

But he wasn't satisfied. 

He craved some outside assurance. 

Such was one twist of his nature, 

he couldn't get away from pedigrees. 

Alfred must have a pedigree. 

Not necessarily a Kreymborg pedigree. 

But somebody's pedigree. 

In his stumbling stuttering way, 
Herrmann Kreymborg 
came upon King Alfred, 
the Alfred who let the loaves burn, 
but the Alfred who was a king — 
of homespun. 
So Herrmann Kreymborg 
whispered his wife: 
" We will call it, Alfred." 
And Alfred it was called. . . . 

140 



Alfred Kreymborg has reached thirty-two. 

Somehow. 

And somehow, 

by some miracle, let us say, 

a few of you — 

notably 

Lance Hartpence, 

Billy Williams, 

Skip Cannell, 

Bogie Bodenheim, 

Carl Sandburg — 

know 

Alfred Kreymborg. 

Kreymborg is glad. . . . 

Glad 

that in knowing Alfred Kreymborg 

you shall hear of Herrmann Kreymborg, 

glad 

that with his sinews, 

feeble or no, 

he has 

or may 

or will 

make you recall 

the sinews 

of Herrmann Kreymborg — 

the offspring give birth to the father. 

Edgar Lee Masters, 

poet of the dead : 

I commend your notice, 

141 



I challenge you 

to see the living 

Mister man Kreymborg, 

(who lies, I think, 

such as there is of him, 

in Woodlawn Cemetery) 

through Alfred Kreymborg, 

who soaks this 

over, 

around 

and under 

him. 

March 12, 1916. 



142 



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